


hope this fades away someday

by portions_forfox



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-23
Updated: 2012-07-23
Packaged: 2017-11-10 12:39:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,210
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/466378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/portions_forfox/pseuds/portions_forfox
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Once, when you were just a child (and this was before Allison and before the bite and before everything in your life got really fucking weird really fucking fast), you met a little boy, and you asked that little boy to marry you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	hope this fades away someday

**Author's Note:**

  * For [forcynics](https://archiveofourown.org/users/forcynics/gifts).



> Written for cassiehayes' prompt at [the ficathon](http://portions-forfox.livejournal.com/23165.html): _**(allison/)scott/stiles** , hearts too big to fit our beds._

Once, when you were just a child (and this was before Allison and before the bite and before everything in your life got really fucking weird really fucking fast), you met a little boy and you asked that little boy to marry you.  
  
The exchange went something like this, like:  
  
"Is that the new Bohrok Bionicle 3000?"  
  
"Yeah, my dad bought it for me."  
  
(You let out a whistle you'd learned from your mom, and) "If you let me play with it I'll marry you when we grow up."  
  
(A tilt of the head and a thoughtful stroke of the chin with two fingers, a gesture he'd picked up from his dad on late nights with a bottle of gin and an open case) "Mmm... okay, sounds good."  
  
"Awesome!" And you grinned, very big and very wide and very, very happy, and the little boy had grinned back, and his name, he said, was Stiles.

 

 

  
-

 

 

  
Later in the day (you held hands walking down the sidewalk, licking frantically to salvage heavy-dripping ice cream in waffle cones):  
  
"Hey Scott, d'you think you could ask your dad to buy you the new Bohrok Bionicle 4000 for your birthday? 'Cos then we could have like a dynamic duo." (This, a phrase he'd heard his mother use just before she took a Polaroid photo of him and his dad with their fishing poles, big eyes and wide smiles and Dad's warm hand in between his shoulder-blades.)  
  
But your face fell. Your hand twitched in Stiles's tight grasp, and Stiles glanced sideways at you, blue cotton candy lips and eyebrows creasing over round brown eyes. "My dad doesn't buy me things," you said, so Stiles nodded once and squeezed your hand, told you, "That's okay, my dad will buy it for you," and he meant it.

 

 

  
-

 

 

  
You sometimes wait for Stiles in the Stilinskis' front room, sinking low into the Sheriff's old green armchair or rifling through the case files on the coffee table, Sheriff's voice booming from the kitchen, "Scott, if you're snooping I swear to god I'll toss you in a holding cell!" and Stiles from upstairs "Dad! What did we agree about not threatening my friends!" and Sheriff, quieter, "It's only Scott." It's only Scott. You like that.  
  
And sometimes it's Sheriff's calloused palms handing you a mug of hot chocolate ( _You're too young to drink coffee, my god_ ) and, "Sorry, Scott, it seems my son's about as good at being ready on time as a teenage girl before a date."  
  
So you smile back, "That's because he  _is_  a teenage girl before a date," and Sheriff rolls his eyes and then tilts his head - like father, like son, you suppose - says  _Hm_  and turns around.  
  
And you turn to the pictures on the mantle, frames of Stiles and Sheriff with their matching eyes and ski-slope noses, their long easy grins and their arms wrapped tight around each other's shoulders, and you realize Stiles's mom isn't in a single one. She was always taking them, you guess.  
  
But apparently the little  _Hm_  hadn't been for nothing, because Sheriff comes out of the kitchen and slides a hand between your shoulder-blades, warm and easy there, and your gaze tilts down to what he's holding in his hand and it's you, it's you as a child (and remember this was before Allison and before the bite and before everything in your life got really fucking weird really fucking fast) and you're smiling like it's easy, your shining eyes meeting the camera's lens, and Mrs. Stilinski's arm around your shoulders. The two of you in Sheriff's old green chair, only it hadn't been so old back then.  
  
"She always said you had the nicest smile," Sheriff tells you, because she was constantly snapping photos so she knew that sort of thing. And Sheriff says  _Hm_  and smiles very small and you almost want to cry.  
  
Stiles comes downstairs and you get in the car and he's spouting off a game plan at inhuman speed, Allison staring at you from the passenger seat,  _shell-shocked_  is the word she uses. And you think it's really dumb of you to feel sorry for yourself when he's the one whose mom is dead, but it's you who has to look at him and think,  _You look like her_.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

When you were still just a child (and this was before Allison and before the bite and before everything in your life got really fucking weird really fucking fast), your best friend's mother died.  
  
And sometimes you'd be with him and it was like the air was suddenly not there, and his lungs would throb and his skin would go pale, clammy in your hands and there were tiny beads of water welling up in the corners of his eyes, and it scared you. It scared you every time.  
  
But you were always there and you were always close and you would always lift him up to bed, and you would always whisper, "Stiles Stilinski, I'm gonna marry you someday, remember?" and he would always smile.

 

 

  
-

 

 

  
With Allison, it's like every bone in your body is alive. It's like the sky is singing, it's like the trees are laughing, it's like the whole world's saying, You're in love, Scott McCall, and why not? Why not be in love. You are young and brave and a little fucked-up and so is she, so is she.  
  
And it's easy to forget, once in a while, when you're with her. It's easy to forget a lot of things when her slender fingers are splayed out on your stomach like flower blossoms, when her lips flush red and swollen against yours and she smirks, those teeth of hers, because she's Allison and you are in love. You can forget that you're a werewolf or that she's a hunter or that there's an Alpha who can't decide if he's good or bad. Those things, you forget.  
  
But you also forget, sometimes when you're with Allison, that when you were just a little boy your best friend's body heaved up vomit that wasn't there, and his hands went limp trying to grab onto yours and he tried to smile at you like he always did but his mother, his mother was dead.  
  
"I don't see you around much anymore, Scott," Sheriff says, hands in pockets, rocking on his heels. "Is it that girlfriend of yours taking up all your time?" And he winks, smiles like he's in on your secret, and you try to pretend you don't like forgetting.

 

 

  
-

 

 

  
Once, when you were just a child (and this was before Allison and before the bite and before everything in your life got really fucking weird really fucking fast), your father left home, and your mother said  _Good riddance_  but you were confused and you frowned and you pushed away food and some days you just collapsed into a heap of limbs on the floor, and stared into space and felt very grown-up and very sad.  
  
But Stiles was always there and Stiles was always close and Stiles would always lift you up to bed and he would always whisper, "Scott McCall, you're gonna marry me someday, remember?" and you would always smile.  
  
And Stiles, he never forgets.

 


End file.
